If The Good Guys Keep Silent
by MiladyGirl
Summary: Alex Blake is a prisoner of an abusive marriage. Her team, however, would help her as far as they could if they were only let in on her secret. Rated M for domestic violence, suicide thoughts/attempt, and related themes. Very graphic.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N**

I've been doodling with this idea for a long time but never actually worked on it until now, pretty much when **crazy CM fan** began posting the great story "Hollow" on here, which explores the same basic idea. I definitely advice you to read that story, or you'll be missing out on good stuff. :)

I know, I'm working on the "On Rules And Attraction" fic I have on here, and this one is sort of a side-work… not sure where it's headed yet, but I don't aim on it to be a romance fic. We'll see where it goes. Be patient, I try to be...

And care about others in the meanwhile. They might seem very strong, but they could still use some affection. And you may try real hard to seem strong, but those around you could be very willing to offer you an embrace without judging.

* * *

It wasn't the first time he had hit her in the face, but it had been many years ago since he last did it. Usually he had more self-control than that; hitting her in the lower back, legs, stomach and breasts was his usual MO, and he rarely left visible marks. But last night he had really lost his temper and before he even seemed to realise himself what he was doing he had struck her across the eye and the side of her nose. The nosebleed had stopped after only a couple of minutes, but her eye had swelled and bruised even though she had put an ice bag on it. When he saw the result he immediately turned remorseful and swept her up in his arms.

"Oh, Alex, honey, I'm so sorry."

Yeah. So was she. Sorry she had ever laid eyes on him. Sorry she stayed with him, for better and for worse. Sometimes she thought he would have killed her long ago if he hadn't been assigned work overseas. The one time she had managed to get pregnant, he had beaten the child out of her in a fit of rage because she had thrown up before making it to the bathroom. He had been disgusted and furious with her for a reason she had little to no control over.

The part of Alex that had been able to enjoy life had died with the unborn child, and she had buried that part of herself in work. Then came the Amerithrax case, when Erin Strauss showed her just how worthwhile her efforts were. For almost six months, Alex had been in a depression so deep only her inability to act had stopped her from committing suicide. She had pulled herself out of it by the hair, focused even harder on her job, focused on acting a way that wouldn't aggravate her husband again… sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn't. Thankfully, he had been working overseas by then and couldn't harm her physically. Though it had happened that he came home unexpected, "surprising her", when what it truly was, was control. She was supposed to know that he could be there when she'd least expected it. He wasn't much better than she scum she chased and put behind bars every day, but she loved him. For some twisted, ironic reason she didn't know, she loved him. And nobody had ever suspected that the stone hard FBI agent was degraded, beaten and humiliated on a regular basis in her own home.

But this time she worked with the sharpest behavioural profilers in the country, and quite frankly even the least sharp brains would notice a black eye. She wondered if she should call in sick and blame it on anything; the flu, food poisoning, exposal to anthrax or whatever she could come up with, but she knew she'd only have to deal with it sooner or later. Also, working a case meant she'd have a legitimate reason to be away from him if only for a few days, and she would much rather have that than stay at home with a fake stomach flu and have to suffer James's nasty comments and the blows of his fists.

* * *

"Whoa!" Rossi exclaimed as he caught sight of her. "What happened to you?"

"I was lying too close to the edge of the bed, and when the alarm went off I fell out of bed and bashed my face on the nightstand. Clumsy." she said. At least it wasn't the classic "I walked into a door"-lie, but she could tell right away he didn't buy it.

"_This _morning? Because… it doesn't look that fresh," he said, his eyebrows knitting together in a questioning glare.

"Well, it is. Fresh enough that it still might grow," she said and touched it gently with her fingertips. He didn't seem totally convinced but at least closer to it, when she screwed up by saying "It was my own damn fault anyway."

Rossi tensed up immediately.

_I've heard those words many times in this line of work_, he thought.

"Was it?"

Blake's jaws tightened even as she tried to put a look of innocence on her face.

"Sure. Whoever would kick someone out of bed like that?"

"I don't know. Who does?"

She tried to smile, but her lips felt numb.

"You've lost me, what are you saying?"

"Alex, who hit you? Was it James?"

She laughed. It sounded fake even to her own ears.

"No one hit me! I fell out of bed!"

He looked at her. She resisted the urge to look away, knowing that if she did, she would crack.

"Dave, I'm _fine_." How many times in her life had she insisted that she was fine when she wasn't? Too many. And it didn't look like she would break that habit any time soon, either. "Really, I am. No one hit me, other than the nightstand. Okay?"

He frowned, and she held the stare. Finally he nodded.

"Okay. If you say so."

"I do."

* * *

"JJ. Have you noticed anything special about Alex in the dressing rooms or shower?"

"Rossi? It's not like you to be a slimeball like that," JJ laughed, but fell silent as his serious expression refused to lighten up. "What's wrong?"

"Have you noticed an excessive amounts of bruises on her?"

"Yeah… now that you mention it. I even asked about it some time ago, she had these awful ones on her neck and shoulders. It was around that time she only wore turtlenecks, do you remember?"

He nodded.

"Well, I asked her about them and she just waved it off. She said it was from when she was chained by the Replicator, and it made sense. Why do you ask?"

"I'm not sure yet, but keep an eye on her for suspicious injuries."

"Are you saying…" but she trailed off. Rossi shrugged.

"I'm not sure _what _I'm saying yet, but if my hunch is correct, this is one secret I don't want her to keep for much longer. But keep it to yourself for now JJ, let's not make this bigger than it has to be. For Alex's sake."

"Yes," JJ mumbled, recalling numerous times when Blake had seemed to be in pain. She had always had a plausible explanation; period pains, neck ache because she had fallen asleep on the couch, bruises explained by slipping in the shower, slipping on an ice patch, bumping into a table at the coffee shop… JJ had bought everything because she knew Blake had a tendency to be a little… _wavy… _when she got worked up, and because she sometimes forgot that she wore heels and walked off as if she wore hiker boots or at least sneakers. And the bruises and sudden "muscle pains" hadn't been so frequent it seemed suspicious, but now that JJ thought about it, it did coincide with times when Blake's husband had been home.

"Dave, I'm afraid your hunch is right," she said. "What do we do?"

"We're working a case so at least we know she won't be in his immediate presence for a few days. Let's figure something out. She was not willing to talk to me. Then again, I'm a man."

"Yeah, but you're on this team," JJ objected. "She'd trust you."

Rossi gave her a glance that told her that regardless of her training and work related experience, he still had something she wouldn't have for quite some time - years. It wasn't a glance that pitied her, but it did tell her that she still had more to learn about the dark corners of the human soul than she probably wanted to learn. He said nothing. For some reason this made JJ feel even worse. It wasn't fair that the good guys should carry the guilt and blame of the bad ones.

Yet someone had to put an end to it, and if the good guys kept silent, who would?


	2. Chapter 2

Blake closed the hotel room door behind her and released a sigh of relief at finally being alone. While they set everything up at the local police station she had longed for some privacy; she wasn't oblivious to how everyone had stared at her bruised face. Finally the sheriff had asked if she had gotten into close combat with an unsub. She had managed to deliver the lie in a way that actually made him believe her, but then again, he didn't know her the way her team did. It was almost always easier to lie to strangers.

She dropped her bag on the bed and kicked off her shoes. She was hungry, but going outside again - even if it only was down to the hotel restaurant - meant that she would have to interact with other people, and she just wanted to be alone. For the same reason she wasn't going to call room service either. Well, she had gone to bed hungry before, it was no big deal. She would have to compensate for it with a big breakfast, but she'd rather do that then look anyone in the eye right now.

Keeping her lies straight was tiring work; each bruise had to come with a story and it was up to her to create that story. The ones on her neck some time ago had been the most difficult to make up a story about; you simply don't bump into things and get bruises on your neck. Luckily - if you could call that luck - it was around the same time she had been chained by the Replicator and although the bruises hadn't appeared until almost a week later, she still had gotten away with that lie.

Which begged the question; why did she protect someone who hurt her? She had told countless abused women to trust the system and get restraining orders if they were afraid of their partners, and yet she knew she would never be able to trust it herself if it came to that. There was only one way out of this situation, and that was death, whether it was his or hers. It all came down to one choice, when you thought hard enough about it. Murder… or suicide.

Alex Blake touched her gun as if reassuring herself that it was still there. Then she went and took a shower.

* * *

"What do you know about her husband?" Rossi asked. JJ finished her fries and thought hard.

"I know that he's a doctor, that he works to and fro with Doctors Without Borders… they've been married for seventeen years. Oh, and that he's an amazing husband."

Rossi raised his eyebrows.

"That's what she keeps saying. How he understands and respects her. How he sometimes surprises her and comes home earlier than expected when he works abroad."

"No doubt doing it to control her and keep her in terror," Rossi mumbled. "Though most abusive partners wouldn't allow _their _spouse to have a job that involves travel."

"But he tried to keep her closer to home, did you know that? When he got a job offer in Boston, he tried to make her come with him. He had already gotten her a job there. She turned it down."

"When was this?"

JJ smiled. It wasn't a nice smile at all.

"Guess."

"I don't have to. Can we pull the hospital records and see if she really did have appendix surgery like she told us… or if it was something completely different."

"Garcia probably could… but can we really keep snooping like this? Alex is never going to forgive us if she finds out."

"Maybe not, but that's a price I'm willing to pay if that makes her safe."

JJ nodded.

"I'm calling Garcia."

* * *

"Can you tell me why I'm searching through the medical records of one of our own?" Garcia asked as she started a search.

"Because I don't think the reason she was admitted was her appendix," JJ replied and pinched the bridge of her nose. _But I hope I__'__m wrong_, she added inwardly. She tried to recall if she had seen a scar that would indicate truth behind the surgery story, but she couldn't.

"You are making a whole lot of non-sense now, sweet JJ, but your wish is my command and I pull the records as we speak… oh."

"What?"

"You were right… two broken ribs, one of which scratched and nearly punctured her lung. It says that she claims to have been in a car crash? How come I never heard of this accident?"

"Because it wasn't an accident and there was no car crash," JJ replied heavily. Garcia was quiet for a few seconds, processing the information she received between the lines.

"Are you saying what I think you're saying?"

"I'm afraid so."

Garcia kept tapping at the keys and then the sound came to an abrupt stop, followed by a whimper. "Oh bless her heart, it's not the first time."

"What did you find?"

"I'm looking at her medical records from before she joined the team, and periodically she has been admitted to a dozen different hospitals with a dozen different injuries, among others a broken wrist, another fractured rib, and…"

Garcia fell silent.

"What?" JJ asked.

"Keep her away from him," the tech analyst said. "I don't care if you have to kidnap her, but do not let my Word Sorceress go back home if that creep she's married to is there."

"What did you find?"

"A 'miscarriage'. Apparently she was so battered her own life was at risk. JJ, don't even let her _talk _to him if you can stop it. That's what they do, you know. They talk. They degrade and fill you with poison long before they first strike and that's what they do whenever you try to get loose. They talk you back, and they talk you down. And when they become violent, you feel like you deserve it even if you know you don't. Believe me JJ, I _know_."

It was JJ's turn to be quiet. Then she said;

"I'm sorry to hear that."

"My old mistake never put me in the E.R, but he would have if I hadn't found the strength to walk."

"How did you find that strength?" JJ asked.

"Through my very own Chocolate Thunder," Garcia replied. "He got me out of that mess, and now we have to do the same for Blake. We're the good guys, right?"

"Yes, we're the good guys," JJ said. "Thanks, Garcia."

She hung up and went back to Rossi.

"I have to talk to her."

"Thread carefully. I asked her straight up and she did not respond well to that."

JJ nodded.

"I'll keep that in mind."

* * *

**A/N**

I just wanna point out that crazy CM fan and I do not try to steal each other's ideas. :P It's merely a matter of the "great minds think alike"-factor.

I always thought there was something off about Blake's husband; I thought he was a bit too controlling. Maybe I'm just too independent, but I didn't think the way he got her a new job and just expected her to come along was sweet, I thought it was a bit creepy. And what kind of a husband doesn't discuss a big topic, such as moving, with his wife before he has already decided to do it? Nah, sorry, there was just something about that guy that made me suspicious of him.

As always, reviews keeps the muse happy. She's a weird one and chocolate chip cookies only goes so far in keeping her calm and content. :P


	3. Chapter 3

Blake had killed seven people in her career with the FBI. Six men and one woman. She had done so with no remorse, no second thoughts. She didn't believe in either karma or ghosts… or God. She believed in the law. And the law said that if she killed her husband she would not only lose her job, her title and her identity. She would also lose her freedom, what little of it she had.

But if she killed _herself _on the other hand, she would lose her very life… but she would finally get to rest. No more lies to tell and keep track of. No more pain. No more fear. Never worry about being revealed as weak and pathetic; just another one of those abused wives they ran into all the time. No one would have to look at her with sympathy.

And a gun promised a quick death, although far from a clean one. She supposed she could take sleeping pills and alcohol instead, to avoid the mess, but she had seen enough cases where that wasn't enough, and becoming a vegetable would be a fate far worse than death.

She traced her fingertips over the barrel of her gun and wondered what it felt like to have a loaded gun into your mouth and keep your finger on the trigger. To know that there was only a little bit of pressure that separated you from death and whatever lay beyond - mere darkness, according to Blake's personal belief.

Someone knocked on the door. Her stomach jolted in a unrealistic expectation that it was him. That he had followed her here to put an end to it. _His_ end.

"Who is it?" she called out.

"It's me," JJ's voice replied.

"Hang on, I just got out of the shower. Let me just put some clothes on," Blake said in a fake cheery voice and put the gun away. She wouldn't want to let JJ see her play with it, and she knew she wouldn't be able to keep her hands off it given how she felt right now.

As she opened the door, she knew right away that she was in trouble. The grave look on JJ's face was not related to the case, she just knew it. Call it female intuition if you like.

"Alex, we need to talk."

"About what?"

"Let me in."

Blake hesitated.

"I'm not going to shut up, so if you don't want to let me in I'm going to stand right here and talk, and I don't think you want others to hear your secret."

"That's enough!" Blake hissed between her teeth and pushed JJ inside. "God damnit, what's wrong with you?!"

"I'll tell you what's wrong with me," JJ said, and Blake could hear sadness in her voice. Sadness, huh?

_Oh this gotta be good_, she thought. _Now she__'__s going to tell me how disappointed she is to find out that I__'__m so weak. She__'__s going to ask me if I enjoy being beaten; if that__'__s the matter with me. If I enjoy writhing on my own living room floor, coughing up blood and wondering just what he broke inside me, wondering if this will be the day that I die. What woman doesn__'__t enjoy that kind of tension in her everyday life?_

"I'm terrified," JJ said and for a moment Blake's mind went completely blank. She couldn't possibly be talking about the same thing Rossi had brought up earlier.

"What?"

"I'm terrified of you getting hurt again, Alex. Maybe we all should have seen it sooner, but you have been very good at hiding the signs. The important thing is that we see it now and we're going to protect you."

"I don't know what the hell you're talking about!" she half shouted, half laughed. "This is ridiculous! I don't know what kind of signs you _think _you might have spotted, but it's all in your head!"

JJ stood still and let her finish. Alex was breathing heavily, her chest rising and falling, and her complexion was feverish. JJ had never seen her so angry before, but the anger was sparked by a complete different emotion. Fear.

"Alex, I had Garcia check your medical history."

The colour drained from Blake's face as if someone had turned a switch.

"No," she exhaled and sat down on the bed. If the bed hadn't been there she would have sat down anyway - it was a matter of either sitting down or fainting. "You can't do that. That's a serious violation of privacy."

"Yes, it is. And that black eye you have? That's not a violation?"

At first JJ thought Blake would keep her stone face on and simply throw her out, by force if necessary. Then her eyes glazed over. Then her lower lip began to tremble. Her nostrils flared as she began to sob. And then the entire façade came crashing down as the tears overflowed her eyes and streamed down her cheeks.

JJ opened her arms and Blake walked straight into the embrace and cried.

* * *

With the flow of tears, her soul washed out years of bottled up terror, self-hatred and frustration. At first, the crying was so intense she nearly feared she would drown in her own tears, but little by little the rainstorm turned into a drizzle, and after perhaps ten minutes or so, she was left with hiccups and sniffling. Her face was swollen, her eyelids puffy, her nose runny and she was utterly exhausted. But relieved.

"You're not going back to him," JJ assured her. "Never. Okay? When we get back, you come home with me."

Blake shook her head.

"I can't. JJ, he would find me and he wouldn't care who he'd hurt to get to me. You have a family, I can't put you at risk."

"It's alright, he won't get that far."

"_No_! I will not go with you and put your son's life in jeopardy, do you hear me?! I'd rather go back to him and I would do that before I let anyone else risk their lives, is that clear?"

"Alright," JJ said, knowing that Garcia would open her home to Blake, as would the others. Though she would probably be less inclined to stay with either of the male agents, but at least there were more options.

"You know what, why don't you get a good night's sleep and we'll talk about it in the morning?"

Blake nodded. Sleep sounded amazing.

"Can I get you anything?"

"A sandwich? Or anything will do, I haven't eaten since lunch."

"You know, I saw there's a Subway restaurant right next to the hotel, I could go there and pick something up for you."

"Would you?" Blake felt like she would start crying all over again at this kind gesture.

"Sure. Same order you always get when we eat there?" JJ asked.

"Yeah, thank you." She wiped her face with her sleeve. "Thank you _so _much."

"You're welcome. Sit tight. I'll be back in a little while."

As JJ left, Blake leaned back against the pillows and closed her eyes. She hadn't felt so secure or relaxed in years.

When JJ returned, Blake was fast asleep. So JJ wrapped the sandwich and put it in the mini fridge, then pulled up a blanket over the older woman's body, taking care not to rouse her from the healing sleep, and then left her alone.

* * *

**A/N**

So far, so good… but it ain't over yet.

Review if you like! Thank you for reading! :D


	4. Chapter 4

"I must say I never quite believed that story about the nightstand," Hotch sighed after JJ and Rossi had gathered the team and revealed their colleague's secret. "However I'm afraid I bought all her previous explanations without questioning them."

"So did I," JJ said. "So did all of us, right guys?"

They nodded, looking slightly shame-faced. They probably should have known; noticing the smallest of clues was what they worked with every day, but in this case they had been clueless.

"That son of a bitch," Morgan growled. Reid only shook his head, looking pale and worried. Some discussions he had had with Blake suddenly made sense; it was nothing that could be deemed too alarming in and of itself, but when you combined all pieces of the puzzle it was clear as day that Blake was terrified of the one person she loved the most, and that she had been leaking leads about it the entire time.

"Where is Blake now?" Morgan continued.

"Asleep. Poor thing was completely cried-out. Listen, there is a risk that James devolves and attacks people outside of the home; especially if he suspects that anyone is standing in his way. She refused to allow me to take her in because she's afraid he'll try to hurt Henry."

"Do you think he would?"

JJ hid her face in her hands and sighed. "I don't know. It could be nothing more than disaster-thoughts; Alex is really ashamed and she's afraid she'd be the cause of someone else getting hurt. It may be nothing more than just that; her fear. But there is a chance… we've seen it before."

"Scorned men determined to get their revenge on the woman who left, and on everyone trying to stop them. Yes," Rossi nodded. "Have any of you really met James?"

"I've seen him from a distance a few times when he's been picking her up, but that's all," Reid said. "Sorry guys."

"So all we have to go on is what she has told us about him, which isn't a lot," Hotch said.

"Blake isn't exactly known for sharing her personal life with us," Morgan muttered. "And now I can see why. She must be afraid we're going to think of her as weak. The last thing she wants is to be pitied."

"Then let's make sure we don't pity her, but we still need to keep her safe."

"I think she's contemplating suicide," said Reid all of a sudden. Everyone fell silent and stared at him as if he had suddenly grown an extra head.

"What makes you say that?" JJ asked. Her voice nearly cracked. Images of losing her sister flowed her mind uninvited and she had to struggle to keep herself levelled and not begin to cry.

"Lately she has talked a lot about, you know, spiritual stuff, like the afterlife and what would happen. I did find it odd because she's not religious, but I supposed it had something to do with perhaps a sick relative or something… I didn't want to pry, so I didn't ask. And I have noticed that she's often touching her gun, not just as if to see it's still in place, but almost as if she… wants to use it."

JJ paled. She was very still for a moment, nearly frozen, then she stood.

"Where are you going?"

"I'm going to take her gun away."

"JJ, she can't work the case if she's not armed."

"She'll get it back tomorrow morning, but I am not going to allow her to have access to it when she's alone," JJ snapped and walked out of the room, slamming the door shut behind her.

* * *

She strode down the corridor until she reached Blake's room, and she had to take several deep breaths and calm down before she could bring herself to open the door.

_Please don__'__t let her be awake_, she begged. _Please don__'__t make me explain myself to her. _

She snuck in and found the gun on the floor next to the bed. It wasn't in the holster. Cold fingers of fear gripped around JJ's heart; she hadn't heard any gunshots fired, but her mind kept insisting that…

Alex whined in her sleep and JJ nearly screamed at the sound. Her heart was pounding when she bent down to pick up the gun. She had just gotten ready to sneak back out when Alex sobbed in her sleep;

"Please James, not the baby… please, honey, please, not the baby…"

JJ felt tears burn in her own eyes and she blinked them away.

"It's okay Alex, he's not going to hurt you again. You're safe," she whispered. For a moment, Blake's sobbing continued, then she seemed to relax.

"Safe," she murmured and sighed deeply, then turned over on her other side and was still. JJ watched her for almost a full minute, but her breathing had evened out and her body was relaxed. Hopefully the nightmares would leave her alone for the rest of the night.

* * *

The next morning, Blake woke up and felt more rested than she had in years. It would seem the Catholics were right; confessing _is _good for your soul. She couldn't remember her dreams, only that they had been dark and disturbing at first, but then a feeling of being protected had chased the shadows away.

She got out of bed and reached for her overnight bag - she had fallen asleep fully clothed last night and really needed to change - only to freeze in the middle of the movement. Her gun was gone. The holster was empty.

Was he here? Had he been sneaking in while she was sleeping, taken the gun… was he in the room right now? Armed?

"James?"

Nobody answered, but of course he wouldn't be so stupid as to reveal himself.

_You're paranoid_, she told herself firmly, but her mind seemed to flutter around like a trapped bird, refusing to understand the meaning of the word.

_Where is he-where is he-oh my God-where is he?_

She knew she could have leapt for the door, but her weapon was her responsibility, she couldn't risk him hurting innocent people with it if it came down to that.

Someone knocked on the door, and a squeak - not even a scream - escaped her.

"Blake? We're going down to breakfast now, wanna join us?"

It was Derek.

"Yeah… yeah, I'll be right down…"

"Oh, and if you're looking for your gun, JJ took it last night. Long story. We'll talk over breakfast, okay?"

She nodded, realised that he couldn't hear that, and managed to get a choked "okay" out. She could hear his footsteps as he walked away, and she leaned against the door, slowly sliding down into a sitting position.

_I wish I were dead._

* * *

**A/N**

Yeah, while I _can _see Blake in an abusive marriage, even _I _think her being suicidal is a little OOC. But… well. That's the way this story goes, apparently. ^^


	5. Chapter 5

She felt nauseous as she stepped into the hotel restaurant and saw her entire team by a table in the far end of the room. For a moment she swayed on her heels, certain she would pass out and make the humiliation complete.

_Not a chance, Superwoman_, she told herself, deliberately using the nickname Garcia once gave her. But she certainly didn't feel much like a superwoman right now; she felt small, pitiful, _stupid_. It was ridiculous; she was a grown woman, an FBI agent, a profiler, a linguist, an author - a _doctor_, for crying out loud! And yet she felt like a frightened little girl who had no place in the world where she could feel safe.

She bit the inside of her lip so hard she could taste blood. Oh, how she hated the taste of her own blood. She had tasted it so many times; she had even choked on it on several occasions. The most terrifying thing she could think of was not being able to breathe, and James took advantage of it in any way he could. He rarely choke her with his hands because he was too careful about leaving marks, but holding her head down underwater left no marks, nor did pulling a plastic bag over her head until she nearly passed out from lack of oxygen. No, those actions didn't leave any marks. Except for in the soul. There, it left scars that would never fully heal.

Things would inevitably change from this moment. She had enjoyed being a member of this team, a part of something, but from now she would no longer be Alex, she would be The Abused Wife. Sitting through the breakfast having to endure their curiosity, and, ironically, even worse, their _kindness_, would be torture.

_Oh God, I can't do this_, she thought, took a deep breath, and then went ahead and proved herself wrong.

* * *

"Good morning," she said. "I'm not overly enthusiastic about the topic I assume we're going to address."

She heard how formal she sounded, but she was unable to help herself. This was how she dealt with things. Reid and Morgan exchanged uncomfortable glances. Blake tilted her head to the side, jaws clenching in a strained smile that didn't reach her eyes.

"What? If it is to be discussed, by all means, go on. I know that you know. After all, you had Garcia hacking into my medical records without my permission, did you not?"

She sat down and shoved the hair out of her face in a gesture that could be taken for defiant if her eyes hadn't betrayed her. It was the eyes of a wounded doe being circled by wolves.

"For how long?" Hotch asked. His voice was very calm and very soft. Blake's lips pressed together for a moment.

"Since the first time he hit me? Sixteen years, two months, one week and four days. Since the first time he threatened to? Eighteen years, four months, two weeks and six days."

"Oh my God," JJ said, almost inaudibly.

"And you never told anyone?" Hotch asked.

"How could I?" She shook her head and cleared her throat. "I'm sorry, I just… I can't, this isn't working," she said and began to stand up again.

"Alex, please sit down," Rossi said, taking great care to sound as gentle as possible, knowing that a loud male voice would be a terrifying experience in the state she was in at the moment. "Please, just sit down and have breakfast with us. We need your opinion on the messages written on the crime scenes."

Blake knew that she was being reeled in, but part of her was aching for their companionship, at least for a little longer. And sometimes it doesn't matter how thinly veiled our excuses are, the only important thing is that they're there at all.

So she sat down again, and for a little while she felt like normal. But in the back of her mind, she knew she wouldn't get off the hook that easily.

* * *

As they went to the cars to head off to the police station, Blake caught up with JJ and said close to her ear;

"I want my gun back, _now_."

JJ blushed.

"Alex…"

"I think I know the reason you took it. Sweet of you. Very protective. Now give it back, okay?"

JJ obeyed, searching for words but finding none that fit. Blake checked the weapon's magazine, put it back in place with a satisfying click and holstered it, looking much more confident when armed again.

"I'm sorry," JJ mumbled, feeling awful for betraying her friend. Blake only glanced at her, saying nothing. She then chose to get into the other car. JJ tried not to feel hurt, but she couldn't help feeling the sting to her heart.

"_Sweet of you. Very protective_."

Blake's words had been practically coated with contempt. She wasn't the type who would lash out in anger; she was - as much as she'd probably hate it if anyone were to point it out to her - a rather passive-aggressive person. Which only made matters worse; if Blake made an effort to use words and tone that conflicted, she was really attempting to hurt you. It was her equivalent of throwing things.

_I wasn't trying to offend you_, JJ thought and glared at her colleague who just closed the car door behind her. _I was afraid for your life. I still _am_, for fuck's sake!_

* * *

"You okay, Blake?" Morgan asked as she fastened the seat belt. She nodded curtly.

"Yeah, I'm fine."

"You know, JJ was just…"

She raised a hand in protest and briefly closed her eyes.

"Not now. Please, Derek. Not now. Let's focus on the case, okay?"

"Okay."

She turned away from him and stared out the window, thinking of the façade that came crashing down after so many years of careful maintenance. Where would she go from here? She couldn't see herself going through all that lay ahead. Even if she chose to quietly go back to James and never say a word about it, the team knew now and they would act if she so much as broke a nail. And the ironic thing was; what if an accident happened? What if she actually _did _fall down the stairs or slipped in the shower? What if they acted on it and there was no evidence to back up the claims? Then he'd punish her; punish her all the way to the grave. Not to mention, what would happen if she really got sick and had to stay home from work? Would someone from the team come over and check on her? Sure they would. In that event too, James would surely beat her to death. If he so much as suspected that she had told anyone… well, there was a reason she had distanced herself from her remaining family and had no friends outside of the job.

She wasn't aware that her hand once again had come to rest on the gun and that her fingers played with the button of the holster. But Morgan, sitting next to her in the back seat, noticed.

_Shit_, he thought. _Maybe JJ wasn't just being paranoid after all._

Blake whipped her head around almost as if she had heard his thoughts, but instead of calling him out on it, she merely snapped;

"Quit staring at me, Derek. I'm not made of glass, I don't break that easily, got that?"

He did a double take. Blake wasn't exactly his favourite person; he couldn't forget how snarky she had been towards Garcia the first time the two had met, and even though Garcia had forgiven Blake quickly, he still wasn't entirely sure what to make of this hotshot linguist with her soft voice and piercing eyes. But she didn't usually snap at people like this. Then again, she was under a lot of pressure.

"Got it, ma'am," he replied in a mild voice.

But he thought of how she fondled her gun, and he wondered just how broken she really was.

* * *

**A/N**

You know guys, the more I think of it, the more warning signs of "abused wife" I see in Blake. The writers really messed up this chance, damn it.

Also, warning on beforehand, the next chapter is going to contain serious triggers when it comes to suicide thoughts. I'll probably stick a little note in the beginning of it as well, but be advised.


	6. Chapter 6

**Trigger warning: suicide attempt.**

* * *

Once they were at work, Blake could step out of her own head and focus on the case. It was actually a relief; almost like waking up from a bad dream. It was ironic given how gruesome the case was, but that didn't change how she felt.

"JJ, may I speak with you?" she said as they went to pick up lunch. JJ gave her a smile, but Blake didn't return it; she went straight to the point.

"I'm sorry I snapped at you earlier. Don't take this the wrong way, but I don't need a babysitter. It makes me furious that you think you can act however you please because of something that's in your past. I am sorry about your sister, JJ, I really am, but don't think that gives you the right to decide what others plan or do not plan to do."

JJ was at a loss of words. Was it so? _Was _it her own experience that had caused her to overreact on something that was really nothing? She didn't want to admit it, but that could have been the case.

"I was worried."

"Well, there is no need to be. Okay?"

JJ was just about to reply - possibly even argue - but before she could open her mouth Hotch called out;

"Garcia has tracked down our unsub, let's go!"

* * *

The look in that unsub's eyes was the same hateful yet teasing one that James would always have before he hurt her. As Blake disarmed the man, he measured her with cold grey eyes and then spat her in the face.

"Fucking bitch! Nice bruise, did your husband do that?! Probably got tired of staring at that ugly face every day!"

Blake said nothing, she only wiped the spit off of her cheek with the back of her hand as Morgan cuffed him and pushed him into the arms of the waiting local police.

"That's enough!" Morgan growled and turned around to face his colleague.

"You okay?"

She managed a smile.

"Sure. Can't be mad at anyone for telling the truth, now, can I?" She shrugged and walked off with her hands thrust deeply into her pockets. Tears burned in her eyes.

Ugly, yeah, she probably was. She had gained a bit of weight last round James worked overseas, and as soon as he got home, he hadn't missed a chance of telling her how he expected her to lose those pounds because he had no interest in being married to a fat cow. When she had, he had complained that she was so skinny it was like fucking a bag of bones and that he wanted her to be more curvy. At times he could just look at her for a long time and then say something hurtful, often aiming the insults at the features she was most content with herself. "A nose job wouldn't be a bad idea" or "maybe you should consider collagen into those lips" and the all-time favourite; "you're starting to look your age, maybe it's time to consider botox." She didn't want to look like she was desperately trying to be 25, and she had a feeling he didn't want her to either. He was just trying to hurt her, and he did a good job, too. But she prided herself with having some resistance left in her.

Well. Today she had run out of resistance. Alex Blake finally gave up.

* * *

"We're going back home tomorrow at 7 am," Hotch told the team that evening as they wrapped things up. Blake looked uneasy at his words, and he took her aside.

"How are you holding up?"

"I'm okay."

"Do you have someplace to stay?"

"Uh-huh," she replied, but avoided eye contact. Hotch's usual frown deepened.

"I have a guest room if you need it."

She had to swallow to keep from crying. Why were they being so kind to her? She was the outsider, the one who didn't really fit in with the team. So why did they have to make things more difficult for her by making her feel like someone cared?

"Thanks. But I'll be fine."

"Okay. Let me know if you need anything."

"I'll be fine. Thanks."

She walked away and Hotch watched her leave. Rossi and Morgan came up to him.

"Well?" Rossi asked. "What do you think, Hotch?"

"I'm not sure," Hotch replied. "But I think we should keep an eye on her."

* * *

She came back to her hotel room with a decision to be made. A final decision. She wasn't going to mess around; she had a gun and she knew how to use it. She felt guilty about doing it in a hotel room; forcing others to take care of the remains, but she felt like she had no choice. She would rather do it here than in one of her colleague's homes, and she could not go back to her own home. And she knew she would have to do it before she lost her nerve.

She took a quick shower and changed clothes, and then packed her things. Tears were running down her face as she did, but she didn't notice. All the while she was packing, her hand kept wandering to her gun, caressing it affectionately.

_I'm leaving you James. And where I'm going, you will never find me._

* * *

"JJ, I have a bad feeling about this," Rossi said. "She hasn't asked any of us for a place to stay and she did tell us she no longer sees her friends. I suppose she could plan on going to her family, but… for some reason I can't see her doing that."

"Do you think she might…?" JJ couldn't word it.

"I think Alex doesn't plan for tomorrow because she knows she won't be around."

They exchanged looks and headed for the reception desk to get a key card to Blake's room. The receptionist wasn't particularly eager to obey, but two FBI badges in the face can be very persuasive, and they soon had what they asked for.

They rushed through the corridors, both sharing a desperate feeling of running out of time.

* * *

Blake sat down on the bed with the gun in her hand. It was a beautiful thing; no nonsense about it, it was made for one purpose alone.

To kill. To end things.

Tears were still streaming down her face and she wiped it with her sleeve, sniffling. But as she raised the gun and put it to her temple, she was smiling through the tears. Once she pulled the trigger, there would be no more pain. Who cared where she would end up? Even if the Bible would turn out to be correct, there could not be a Hell worse than the life she lived here on Earth. It would all be over, and she would finally get to rest.

* * *

The door was torn open, and JJ's voice spoke.

"Alex, that's not going to solve anything."

"On the contrary; it's going to solve _everything_." Her voice trembled and was thick with tears, but she didn't lower the weapon. "Don't come any closer, it's gonna be messy."

"Yeah?" Rossi said from behind JJ. "That's how you're going to leave a hotel room? I never thought of you as that selfish. Besides, if you pull that trigger, James wins."

"_No_."

"_Yes _sweetie," JJ insisted, "he does. I bet you didn't leave a letter behind explaining why you did it. Cops and agents so rarely do. He will be pitied, and he will walk, and he will never have to face the consequences."

Blake closed her eyes.

"But I won't have to deal with him," she said. Her facial muscles tensed, hardened into a cold mask of defiance.

Then she pulled the trigger.

* * *

The gun clicked.

JJ threw herself over her colleague and snatched the gun from her before she could fire it again, and tossed it across the room where Rossi picked it up. JJ wrapped Blake up in her arms, holding her so tight she couldn't move.

"Never, never, never, never do that again," JJ murmured and rocked the older woman in her arms. She looked past Blake and met Rossi's glance. She nodded; he could go. She would take care of their colleague. He returned the nod and slipped out of the room, closing the door behind him.

"I don't wanna live like this," Blake sobbed against JJ's shoulder. "I'm so tired of being afraid. It's not the pain, it's not knowing what's going to happen next. How bad it's going to get."

"Well, you're not going back to him," JJ said. "I spoke to Garcia, and if you don't want to come home with me, she'll take you in."

"Garcia?" Blake sounded hesitant, and JJ couldn't quite blame her. Garcia wasn't exactly the warrior type. But she was like a Mama Bear if her family was threatened, and Blake was part of the family now.

"He doesn't know where she lives, or even who she is, does he?"

Blake shook her head. While James had been somewhat interested in the team members when she first joined it, it had mainly been the male agents; the ones he saw as possible competitors. The tech analyst, he had completely ignored. Blake feared that it was her doing to some extent; she hadn't spoken often about her. She found Garcia somewhat confusing; she didn't understand people who were so happy, and open, and… physical. It seemed Garcia was always ready and eager for both hugs and cheek kissing. Blake, on the other hand, had to prepare herself in advance for just a quick hug. She didn't like being touched.

In fact, that wasn't entirely true. She _did _like to be touched, but she was afraid that the touch would turn unpleasant. So many times James had turned a gentle caress into a pinch. Back when she was a smoker he would sometimes sit down next to her, take the cigarette from her, kiss her slowly… and then burn her with the cigarette. She had learned not to trust that what seemed like a gentle touch would stay gentle. The Replicator had scoffed at her and remarked that he didn't recall her being so skittish. The truth was that his movements reminded her of James's. She couldn't help herself.

"Why didn't you let me do it?" Blake sniffled. "I can't go and stay with you guys like I'm some sort of…" she took a deep shuddering breath and stuttered; "s-stray animal."

"Oh, Alex!" JJ nearly laughed at the image, but knew her colleague would misunderstand and take offence. "Nobody thinks of you that way! We're family, we take care of _each other_."

Blake just leaned her head against JJ's shoulder and sighed. "But I don't want to be taken care of," she whispered.

"I know that. But just this time, let us pull the load for you. You were in on helping Reid through his rough time. Soon enough there's someone else of us in need of help, and you'll be part of helping out there. Right now, you're the one we need to help."

"I wish it wasn't so."

"But it is so. This time."

Blake pulled back a little and JJ let her.

"I hate crying," she said. "Messes up my sinuses for hours."

"And that bullet wouldn't have?" JJ snorted. Blake actually smiled a little.

"Wouldn't have suffered the consequences in that case."

"I dislike your logic. Is there anything else I need to know about? Razor blades?"

Blake gave her a glare so full of contempt JJ nearly flinched.

"Fine. Pills?"

Blake looked away.

"Alex? Which ones?"

"Valium and Ambien."

"Where do you keep them?"

Silence.

"Where do you keep them?"

"My purse. Secret compartment."

"Tampon compartment," JJ translated. Blake nodded and smiled a little.

"Yeah. The one place no man would know to look for."

JJ understood. "You hid them from James, didn't you?"

Blake wiped her face with both hands. "Yeah."

"Okay, I'm going to take these things away from you. I am sorry for interfering, but I can't let you hurt yourself. I can't hand you the tools to hurt yourself. I just can't do that."

"_Fuck _you."

"You can say whatever you want to me, I'm not backing off."

Blake closed her eyes. "Game's over, huh?"

"Yes, Alex, it is," JJ said patiently as she searched Blake's purse and took out the pills. "Right now you're going to bed." She took out a single Ambien. "Take this. I'll be in charge of the rest of them."

"So now you're not only my babysitter, you're also my pharmacy?"

"Just humour me, okay?"

Blake sighed and wiped her face again.

"Okay. Could you leave me alone for a minute?"

"No. I'm sorry, but right now I don't trust you to be alone."

Blake muttered something that sounded like it shouldn't be repeated out loud, and began taking her clothes off, quickly changing into a tank top and a pair of shorts. Once she was done and had brushed her teeth, the pill had started to kick in. Her body felt heavy. She almost collapsed onto the bed.

"You should have let me do it," she slurred.

"No. Sleep now, I'll stay with you."

"I'm sorry JJ but right now I hate you."

"That will pass."

"I hate myself."

"That too will pass. Go to sleep."

Eventually her eyelids fluttered shut and she fell asleep. JJ heaved a deep sigh and curled up next to her colleague, finally allowing herself to give in to the tears. But unlike Blake, who had cried from fear and anger and despair, JJ's tears were mostly from relief.

* * *

**A/N**

This was difficult to write. I haven't written about suicide-related matters since my own attempt at it, so it was a bit too close to home, which might be obvious from the writing, I tend to skip over the parts where I have to face my own emotions from those years. (No need to worry about me though, I'm way beyond those thoughts now. :) So... I _can_ promise those who feel that way, that things can and will change, with a little help from others and a little hope. )

I also felt like Blake would be the kind of person who means serious business with such a thing, but I'm not sure how well that translated into the fic. Well. Here it is, anyway, such as it is. A little OOC and a little weird all in all, but at least it's written.


	7. Chapter 7

Once she had calmed herself down and made sure Blake was deep asleep, JJ stepped outside for a moment to speak with Rossi. He approached her in the hotel corridor with a look of pure shock written all over his face.

"JJ, you're not going to believe this," he said. "There is nothing wrong with her gun. It's loaded. Nothing is jammed. By all accounts it should have fired."

"So why didn't it?"

He only looked at her without saying a word. He didn't know. There was no logical reason. JJ closed her eyes.

"I know Alex doesn't believe in God, but I think _I _do now," she said.

"Yeah. What do we do now? This must be reported, and we cannot have a suicidal agent on the field."

"Does anyone _need _to know about this? I think that might be the final straw for her; she can't take any more right now."

"I think so too," Rossi sighed. "But it would be dangerous, not only for her but for all of us, to have her on field duty until she gets past this."

"Is there a way to assign her to desk duty without telling on her?"

"If _she _asks for it out of free will, I suppose. But…"

"… she never would. Too proud. Damn it. So what happens now?"

"I'll talk to her one on one on the plane. See if I can persuade her to apply for desk duty for a few weeks, or trick her into doing so if I have to."

"And if she won't?"

He sighed once more.

"Then it will up to Hotch to make the call."

* * *

Blake sat by herself in the back of the plane, reading a paperback novel about someone who apparently had control issues even worse than she did.

_I even failed at dying_, she thought. _How much more of a failure can one person be?_

"Morning, Alex. May I sit down?" Dave Rossi's voice floated through the air and interrupted her negative thought pattern. She briefly looked up at him and made a non-committal sound that he decided to take as a yes. She felt his eyes upon her and refused to look away from the pages of the god-awful novel.

"What do you want?" she asked in a low, uninterested voice. "To tell me how stupid and reckless I was? In that case you don't have to waste your breath. I'm well aware."

"I'm not here to tell you anything. I'm here to ask you something."

"Oh?"

"Where do you want to go from here?"

She felt her eyes filling up with tears and was surprised; she didn't think she'd have any more tears in her. Also, she was _so _tired of weeping, and she was even more tired of letting other people see it. She wondered if she would ever regain any authority again.

"I don't know," she replied and blinked away the tears as they threatened to overflow. "I honestly don't know anymore."

"Do you want to break free from James?" Rossi asked in a soft voice. In her heart, Blake didn't think it would be possible; he would always find her. But she wanted her freedom. Yes. She did.

She nodded.

"Do you want to stay with the BAU?"

"Of course I do. But I can't now, can I? Not after last night."

"Alex, I need you to listen to me very carefully now. JJ and I are the only ones who know what happened. As far as the rest of the team are concerned, we were only worried in general and decided to keep an eye on you. We have debated back and forth on how to deal with this, because you know what protocol says…"

"Yeah," she said and hung her head.

"…but we decided that we won't tell as long as you go straight to Hotch and ask for desk duty for at least a month. Tell him you need to focus on your emotional wellbeing and that you don't feel like you can perform on top out there for the time being."

"Would you do that for me? Cover up, like that?"

"That depends. Would you put a gun to your head again?"

She sighed.

"No, I guess not. But it didn't work anyway. I guess I'd have to turn it in now, but I would really like to know what was wrong with it…"

"Actually, Alex, your gun works fine. There is nothing wrong with it."

She stared at him. "Then why…?"

"I don't know. But I suppose someone or some_thing_ didn't think it was your time to go. Don't waste your second chance. Say thank you and come back to life."

He stood. "We've got your back. Trust us. _Try _us."

Her mouth had dropped open but she found no words. She merely watched as he stood and walked away, headed for the coffee machine. She quelled the urge to call him back; she still wouldn't know what to say even if he did. But she had gotten something to think about.

With a sigh, she put the book away and stared out the window instead, deep in thought. Almost against her own will, a tiny flicker of hope began to shine through the darkness of her mind.

Eventually, she took a deep breath, got up from her seat and walked up to Hotch.

"Hotch, I need to speak with you."

* * *

**A/N**

Sorry this chapter is much shorter than the previous, I just felt like I needed to get this out of my system and I have a bad habit of going back and poke in stuff (often resulting in ruining the good parts) if I don't post it as soon as I'm done.

I'm always grateful for reviews. Thank you everyone who follows this story! :)


	8. Chapter 8

Blake was a talented liar; she had to be in order to keep her secret for so long, but she was afraid she wouldn't be able to lie to her husband. She paced back and forth in the empty bullpen, fidgeting with her cell phone but too scared to make the call.

_He's going to hear it in my voice_, she thought. _He's going to hear that something's off, and he'll come for me. _

"Hey," someone said from behind her and she jumped, nearly dropping her phone.

"Jesus Christ!" she gasped and glared at Garcia. "Are you trying to give me a heart attack above all?"

"Oh I'm so sorry, I thought you heard me coming in."

Blake shoved the hair out of her face and tried to will her pulse to calm down, blushing furiously as she averted her eyes.

"Obviously I didn't," she replied and her jaws clenched in a desperate attempt to keep from crying. She did not want to cry _again_! Somehow this time she managed to wade off the tears before they threatened to drown her, but it was a struggle.

"Sorry," Garcia repeated, and she looked it.

Blake sighed. "It's not your fault. I guess I'm just… a bit jumpy."

_Now that's the understatement of the year._

"I know you are, it's okay," Garcia said, giving her a warm smile. "Do you want me to stay while you make the call?"

"No. No, I'll be fine on my own."

Garcia doubted it, but she had seen the conflicting emotions in her colleague's eyes and knew perfectly well just how fragile her self control was.

"Okay. I'll wait for you by the elevators."

Blake nodded. Then, just as Garcia left, she called out in a low voice;

"Thank you. I know I'm bad at expressing my feelings, but I really am grateful for everything you guys do for me."

Garcia smiled. "You'll be fine, pretty lady."

_God I hope so, _she thought as she hit speed dial and waited for her husband to pick up the phone. She was trembling like a puppy afraid of being kicked, and she hoped for dear life that the tremor wouldn't be detectable in her voice.

"James? Hi, it's me."

At least to herself, she sounded normal, and this made her relax a little.

"Hi honey! Are you back?"

She closed her eyes and raised her free hand up to her face, touching the fading bruise with her fingertips. _No, James, I will never be back_, she thought.

"Well, I'm at my desk right now but we just got called away again. I just wanted to let you know."

"Uh-huh." She could tell he was barely listening.

"What are you doing?" she asked, trying to sound light-hearted.

"I'm cooking. I was hoping you'd be back to join me for dinner."

There was an underlying threat in this plea, but it was usually safe to dodge it if it was over the phone. It would have been a different thing if she had been standing before him, telling him she had to leave for another case as soon as she got back. He may have let her go, but probably not before boxing her in the stomach or the lower back. In fact, her kidneys seemed to contract momentarily as if he actually had hit her across them.

"I'm sorry." She was, though not about missing dinner with him.

"Yeah, well. Places to go and bad guys to catch. Where are you going this time?"

No questions about whether or not anyone had commented on her bruise. Had he actually forgotten that he had let her leave the house with a black eye only a few days ago? As unbelievable as it may have sounded, she thought he had. He was that sure of himself, of not getting caught. And after all, why wouldn't he be? She had kept quiet for nearly two decades, he must feel quite certain that she was completely obedient.

"Uh, Arizona," she lied.

"Don't forget to load up on sunscreen."

She nearly rolled her eyes. If it was up to him she would be pale as a porcelain doll, and while her complexion was naturally rather fair, she could never look like a Victorian lady unless she decided to undergo bloodletting. Which, for the record, she never would. There were limits even to her submission.

"I won't. I'll call you whenever I can. Love you."

"I love you too, honey."

He hung up and she lowered the phone, staring at it. Her hands were shaking. Now she was lying to him, and there would be no mercy if he caught her now.

_But he'd have to catch me first. _

* * *

Garcia waited by the elevator as she had promised. Blake had never been so happy to see anyone before; while she still had her doubts about Garcia being able to protect her - she had a hard time visualising Garcia protecting anyone from _anything _unless it was a digital threat - she only wanted some TLC, and there were few people who could offer that more genuinely than Garcia.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah. Sure."

"What would you like for dinner?"

Blake nearly laughed.

"Truthfully?"

"As truthful and blunt as can be. Just spit it out."

"Pizza. And ice-cream."

"For topping?" Garcia teased. Blake pursed her lips and pretended to consider.

"Yeah. Why not?"

Garcia laughed out loud.

"I'm sure we can make that happen if we need to."

Blake joined the laughter.

"On second thought, let's make the ice-cream a side dish."

* * *

Much later, as they were comfortably full - and truth be told, a little bit tipsy after sharing a bottle of wine - Garcia spoke up.

"May I ask you something?"

Blake tensed.

_Here it comes, the question about why I stayed for so long; was there some sick, perverted part of me that enjoyed being hurt?_

She took a sip of the wine to calm her nerves. "Yeah, sure."

"What did he do to compensate?"

She swallowed the wine the wrong way and began coughing, waving her hand in front of her face.

"I'm sorry, what?" she gasped.

"My ex-boyfriend always did the classic unexpected flower gift routine. For about two years after our breakup just _seeing _flower bouquets made me shiver with fear."

"_You_…?" Blake said, after she finally managed to stop coughing. "You were…?"

"I was. Not for very long, and he never, you know, hit me so bad I had to get to the hospital, but… yes." She took a sip of her own wine. "So what did James get you? Jewellery? Flowers?"

"Books," she said. "First editions, various classics… I still to this day have no idea where he got them. I have a signed copy of Moby Dick. He got me that one after…" she trailed off and hid her face in her hands. "Sorry."

Garcia held out a hand and gently, very gently, put it on the older woman's shoulder.

"Listen to me Alex, you have _nothing _to be sorry for."

"I just feel like I'm never going to go another _day _without crying again," Blake sniffed. "I don't _cry_, Penelope, I never cry!" She nearly sounded desperate.

"Well, all those bottled up emotions need to come out some time, better sooner than later. Trust me on that one. Come here," she said and Blake curled up next to her, leaning her head against Garcia's bosom and cried like a child. She was somewhere around twenty years older than the blonde, but for the time being, she sought comfort as though it had been the other way around; like a child seeking comfort from a mother. And Garcia gave it as unconditionally as a mother would.

* * *

**A/N**

Gah, too many people on the team, I can't cram them all into taking care of her, damn it! I have such a difficulty with juggling several characters at once!

Anyway. I feel like this story never ends, I expected it to be much shorter, to be honest. Well. I've said it before and I'm gonna say it again, the muse does what the muse wants. ^^

As always, reviews/feedback are appreciated! :D


	9. Chapter 9

"Shower's available!" someone called out and roused Alex Blake from a deep sleep. She opened her eyes and felt completely disoriented; where the hell was she? There were colourful furniture and fuzzy things everywhere. She groaned as she tried to roll over, but the couch she was currently laying on was so soft she was pretty much stuck in one position.

A blonde woman poked her head into the room and at the sight of her, everything fell into place. Oh. Right. She was staying with Garcia. The tech analyst had insisted that Blake took the bed, but Blake had been too embarrassed about the whole situation to accept that amount of kindness. She kind of regretted that now; her back was _killing _her. She somehow managed to pull herself up in a sitting position and winced. Garcia gave her a knowing grin.

"I warned ya."

"Back at the Academy I could sleep anywhere and still be fit for fight the next day," Blake complained and rubbed the back of her neck. "I guess age does catch up with you eventually."

"Oh no, that's not _your _age. It's the _couch__'__s _age that's the problem. Also, I think Kevin and I broke some of its springs or something when we were fooling around…"

Blake jumped out of the couch as swift and agile as an elite gymnast.

"_Oookay_! Thank you for that piece of information that I didn't need!"

Garcia laughed out loud.

"Sorry. But shock force is the only way to get out of that butthugger," she said. "The shower is waiting for you. The towels are clean. Feel free to use any of the shampoos and conditioners."

She headed out for the kitchen. Blake frowned.

"_Any_? How many different kinds shampoos and conditioner does one person need?" she wondered out loud.

As it turned out, if that one person was Penelope Garcia, at least a dozen of each. Blake shook her head, smiling a little without being aware of it herself. Pretty much every single fruit, berry and flower known to mankind had a place among the hair products. Blake looked around for something a bit more neutral and eventually settled for a vanilla-scented one.

* * *

When she came back out Garcia had made breakfast - muffins and sandwiches; no bacon. She was a vegetarian. Blake supposed she should have known that, but she didn't. Garcia sniffed the air as the older woman entered the kitchen.

"I _knew _you were a vanilla-girl!"

Blake raised her eyebrows. Garcia replayed the sentence in her mind and groaned out loud.

"Oh my God, that came out wrong, sorry!"

Blake took a seat. "For the record, I am _not _vanilla. And that is all I have to say on that matter, so please don't ask."

Garcia eyed her curiously. Well, still water runs deep. Right now probably wasn't the best time to be nosy, though, so she decided to leave well alone.

"I have to go shopping after work," Blake said, completely dismissing the previous topic. "I can't go back home and pick up clothes - when he's at home, he's at _home _\- and I only have the clothes I had in my overnight bag when we left for Kansas. I need at least something more to wear if this… arrangement… drags out."

Garcia tilted her head to the side.

"Did you even talk to the police about James yet?"

Blake bit her lip and looked away. "No."

"You told Hotch you did."

"I know."

"Alex…"

"I will. I promise. I will. We need to go to work now," she said and finished her last bite. "This was delicious, thank you. I'll make the breakfast tomorrow."

Garcia snorted.

"No you won't. You need me to say something shocking to even get you out of the couch, remember? Besides, you're sleepwalking before you've had your first cup of coffee, I really don't trust you to make something edible in that mental state."

Blake rolled her eyes, but she was grateful Garcia didn't push the matter of her not reporting James to the police yet. She couldn't explain why, not even to herself. She just felt like it was… too soon, somehow. Just two nights ago she had been determined to end her life; she hadn't gotten herself back together enough to make any decisions regarding anything just yet. She was just trying to hide, to take some time to make some sense of everything that whirled around in her head and her heart.

* * *

The rest of the team left for California on a case that morning, and for the first time Blake understood some of the anguish Garcia went through every time the rest of them left. To see them walk out into unknown danger and be aware that there was no way you could save them if anything happened, that was… painful.

"Be safe," she heard herself say as the elevator doors closed behind them. She had never even considered how this felt, and it made her feel a little bit ashamed of herself. She reached out a hand and touched Garcia's.

"How do you do this every time without falling apart?"

Garcia forced a smile.

"I don't know. And it doesn't get any easier, either."

Blake looked at her as if she had never seen her before.

"I really do admire you." she said in a matter-of-factly tone, and before Garcia could reply, she had already walked off.

* * *

A couple of hours later, she was sitting next to Garcia, reading through some related case files, when her cell phone began to ring. She took it up and glanced at the display, and her face visibly whitened.

"It's my husband," she said. Her mouth felt completely dry.

"Don't answer it."

"I have to."

But for a moment she was unable to do anything but stare at the display. Garcia saw her struggle and put a hand on her arm as if to anchor her. It wasn't until then that Blake found the strength to answer.

"Hi honey."

"Hi sweetheart, are you busy?"

"I'm just sorting through some old information on the case right now. How are you?"

"I'm missing you."

"Aww."

"I was thinking, as soon as you come back, what do you say we do something together, just you and I?

"Mm, anything particular you had in mind?" Her voice held just the right amount of feeling, but her eyes flickered from side to side in anxiety.

"Oh, I could think of something… a surprise. Let me know when you're coming back from Alabama and I'll set something up."

"You tease, you won't even give me a hint? I can't wait to find out… Look, I need to go now. I love you."

"I love you too, Alex."

She hung up and realised that she was trembling.

"Are you…?" Garcia began.

"I'm fine. Yeah, it's okay, I'm fine. I'm fine."

She kept repeating it like a mantra, trying to convince herself rather than Garcia, but she wasn't doing a very good job convincing either of them.

"Please, let's go talk to the police right now," Garcia pleaded. "I can't stand to see you on edge like this."

"Tomorrow, okay? Just, don't touch me, don't even _talk _to me right now, I need to… I need to think."

Garcia reluctantly let go of the older woman's arm and turned back to the computer. She knew her colleague was having a quiet panic attack but she also knew that messing with her at the moment would make matters even worse.

_I could still go back to him_, Blake thought. _He doesn't know. I could start anew and maybe this time I'll know how to keep him in a good mood. _

Part of her did believe in this fairytale. But the better part of her screamed in protest and desperation at the very thought, as if she watched herself slowly but steadily reaching out her hand to touch a hot stove.

* * *

**A/N**

Wow everyone, thank you for your reviews and messages, I'm so glad you like this story! And I'm especially glad I could make some of you view Alex in a different light - the most interesting part about this character I think is that she's so full of quirks that the writers never cared to explore.

I think I have a pretty good grip on what's going to happen now, and if you notice a certain inconsistency, it is deliberate… and if you do, don't point it out to anyone else, okay? It's going to make sense later, I promise. ^^

As always, reviews are very welcome. Thank you all for reading! :D


	10. Chapter 10

Garcia stepped up to Blake as the brunette waited for the elevator after work.

"I'm going with you."

"No, you don't."

"You're going _shopping_, Alex. You need to put me in a strait jacket to keep me from coming along, don't you know that by now?"

Blake rolled her eyes. She wasn't used to being this close around other people for an extended length of time and it was beginning to suffocate her. At the same time she knew that Garcia was only being protective of her, so she couldn't exactly yell at her. She tried passive-aggressive and delivered a deep sigh.

"Fine, let's go shopping for strait jackets, then," she muttered. Garcia didn't bite.

"Listen, I know you want to be alone, but I'm coming with you whether you like it or not and that's _final_."

Blake's chin dropped. Garcia gave her a stern look.

"You heard me, lady. Let's go shopping."

"By all means," she said, surprise still lacing her voice.

* * *

Garcia looked around in the store; it was far from the kinds of stores she usually shopped at. Blake had a more sophisticated, mature… and, as far as Penelope Garcia was concerned, plain _boring_, taste in clothes.

"Hey Alex, why don't you try this one on?"

Blake turned around and stared at the fuzzy sweater Garcia held up.

"No."

"Come on, it would look lovely on you."

"It's pink," Blake simply stated and took out a dark green blouse and a black blazer and added the items to the black slacks she had already picked out. Garcia sighed.

"I thought you said you were buying _new _clothes, but to me it looks like you're buying the same clothes you're already wearing every day. Besides, you're on desk duty for another three weeks, you don't have to look that official; I don't."

Blake shook her head, but she was smiling a little.

"Nice try, but it's not going to happen."

"Can't blame a girl for trying," Garcia shrugged and put the pink sweater back. Blake checked the size tag of the blouse, nodded and headed for the checkout.

"Wait, you're not even going to try them on?" Garcia called out.

"They're the same brand and size as the ones I already have, as you pointed out it's basically the same clothes, I don't need to try them on."

Garcia pouted.

"You're boring. You don't even _like _shopping, do you?"

"Not when I'm forced to," she said evenly and pulled out her credit card. She just wanted to get a coffee and go back home. Garcia was sweet, but she was also very chatty, and Blake wanted nothing more than an hour of silence with a book. One hour? She could settle for thirty minutes if necessary.

She was utterly unprepared when the cashier said;

"I'm sorry ma'am, but your purchase didn't go through."

She took out another card and tried that one. More nothing happened. A bad feeling began to twirl its cold fingers around her heart, but she refused to admit that she was afraid James had outsmarted her.

She took out her third card - the emergency card, the one she never used. Not even this one worked.

"I'm sorry ma'am," the girl said, and she looked it. Blake was blushing from embarrassment, but that feeling was second to the building terror. She put her wallet back into her purse.

"'Scuse me, I need to sort something out with my husband," she mumbled as she turned around to leave.

"Would you like me to put these away for you for the time being?" the girl called out as she folded the clothes, but Blake didn't answer. She felt like she was slowly turning into ice. She walked out of the store like she was in a haze, and a puzzled and worried Garcia followed in tow.

* * *

"Please let's go to the police," Garcia said as she sat down in the car. Blake had taken the driver's seat and while Garcia wasn't one hundred per cent sure she was fit to drive, she wasn't going to argue.

"Tomorrow," Blake repeated automatically and then, with no warning whatsoever, she slammed her fists against the steering wheel and screamed. There were no words in the scream; only despair. It hurt Garcia to hear anyone sound that helpless.

"Calm down Alex, maybe it's just a glitch…"

"All three cards? Oh, no, I don't think so, this is James's doing, I'm sure of it. I have to call my bank."

* * *

As soon as they got back to Garcia's apartment, Blake called the bank and had a heated argument with them, but in the end there was nothing they could help her with. Apparently a man who identified himself as Doctor Alex Blake, had terminated her accounts and walked out with all her savings in cash earlier that morning. Blake tried to wrap her head around how he had managed to manipulate an ID, but on the whole, _how _he had done it didn't matter. He _had _done it, and nobody had stopped him.

After the initial shock, something that looked suspiciously like anger began to show on her face as she flipped the phone open again. Garcia was getting even more concerned, if that were possible.

"What are doing? Please don't do it."

"I'm calling my husband," Blake snapped. "James! Something funny happened today when I was going to make a purchase. The cards didn't go through."

"That _is _odd." He sounded perfectly calm. "Do you need me to put some money into your account?"

"_What _account?!"

He ignored her.

"How is Alabama by the way?"

"What? It's, it's fine…"

"You lying bitch! You told me you were going to _Arizona_! So, being naturally curious about my wife's whereabouts, I called the bureau and asked for your team, and they said they were currently unavailable because they were going to _California_! And guess what? Agent Blake wasn't with them, according to hotel managers in California. So where are you, Alex? I know you're still in town, because your cards haven't registered any purchases elsewhere, nor have you bought train or bus tickets, and your car is still in our garage. Listen carefully, you fucking whore, you have two hours to get your ass back home and I won't kill you. But if you make me go out there and hunt you down, I swear to God Lexy I _will _kill you."

"I'm going to the police, James," she stuttered.

"Good luck with that, my dear. After I took down your bank accounts I filed a missing person's report on you. So the moment you walk in at the police station, their first call will be to me - worried husband of a wife who's having a nervous breakdown and accusing everyone dear to her of the most outrageous things."

She was quiet.

"Oh you disappoint me, Lexy," he mocked. "Multilingual, doctor's degree in linguistics, and you can't even entertain a simple conversation in your own mother tongue."

"Don't call me Lexy," she said listlessly. "You know I hate it."

"I know," he whispered. "Two hours. Then I'm coming to give you your well deserved surprise. You'll love it. It's to die for."

He hung up. Blake stared into thin air, the phone falling from her hands and onto the table. The world had begun to spin around her, all colours draining from it. She felt numb, so terrified she had completely lost her ability to act, think or even feel.

"He's coming," she said in a perfectly conversational tone.

Then she leaned forward and threw up on the floor.

* * *

**A/N**

I set my life duties aside to write this chapter this morning, and my muse wouldn't even allow me to eat breakfast. Or lunch. Talk about suffering for the art! Now I need cake. Or pie.

But most of all I need to hug Alex. I'm so sorry for writing such horrible things. : (

Okay. I do try to update as soon as I can, but as of tomorrow I need to do things that concerns others than myself, so I'll write the next whenever I can get the time to. ^^


	11. Chapter 11

**Warning! This chapter contains VERY graphic violence.**

* * *

It took almost ten minutes before Garcia had managed to get the whole story out of the shaken woman, and once she had, Blake stared wildly into her eyes and said;

"We need to go to Quantico."

"Are you insane?! No! We're going to the nearest police station!" Garcia said.

"I'll call the police from the car, I swear I will, but the BAU is the only place where he wouldn't dare to get to me," she said. Now she sounded somewhat collected again, but it was merely an act. She had never felt more adrift in her life.

Garcia wondered if this thing about BAU being the only sanctuary was just an idea Blake had, or if it was true, but fine. She could agree it would probably be safer in a building full of FBI agents. It would probably be safe enough at a police station as well, but he would expect her to go there. At least that's what Blake seemed to believe, and Garcia didn't know enough about James to have a different opinion.

She took a deep breath, held it for a moment, and then exhaled.

"Alright. Let's go."

* * *

"My name is Alex Blake, I'm with the FBI, my husband James Blake has filed a missing person's report on me. I am not missing. I have left him after years of domestic violence."

While her voice sounded calm and composed, that was a result of shock rather than actual calm. Also, she knew that if she sounded upset, it would lessen her chances of being believed, as paradoxical as it may seem. She didn't know exactly what James had said about her, but if she came across as paranoid she would get no help. Not in time.

"I am staying with a friend. I don't want to give up her name in case he finds out. Please find him and take him into custody, I will not reveal my whereabouts until you call me back on this number and tell me he cannot harm me. I will make a formal report as soon as I get to a place where I can feel safe."

She hung up without answering any more questions and pressed both hands against her temples. "I can't believe this is happening to me," she gasped and ran her fingers through her hair, making a complete mess of it.

"Hang in there, it's almost over," Garcia said, hoping it was true.

Blake didn't reply.

* * *

They made it into the building with no incidents and the closer they got to their unit, the more Blake relaxed. Perhaps her sense of security was false, but it certainly helped her think. And with that, she began to feel a little bit embarrassed about the whole thing. She felt curious eyes upon her as they walked through the corridors and knew she must look awful. She halted and turned to Garcia.

"I'm going to the ladies' room. I need to fix myself up."

"Do you want me to come with you?"

"Penelope, we're at _Quantico_. The police are notified and they are - I hope - looking for him as we speak. If I'm not safe here, I'm not safe anywhere in the world."

Garcia looked her in the eyes and nodded.

"Okay. But don't take too long."

Blake gave her an impatient eye roll that ironically made Garcia feel better - if Blake could show annoyance over the protection she had been desperate for only minutes earlier, she was probably going to be alright.

"I'm calling the team and let them know what's happening."

"Okay."

* * *

Blake opened the door to the ladies' room and noted to her relief that it was empty. The last thing she wanted was some coaxed conversation with someone by the sink, possibly having to explain why she looked like hell. She stepped inside, the sound of her heels echoed back from the walls. The door closed behind her.

She caught a glimpse of movement in the mirror just a split second before James grabbed her by the hair and smacked her face-first into the wall. The pain erupting when her nose broke was excruciating. When she gasped for air to scream for help, she inhaled blood and the scream came out as a thick groan as he yanked her back, still by the hair. She had left a splotch of blood on the white wall. It had the same shape as a billowing mushroom cloud and she stared at it as if hypnotised until he violently turned her towards him. She made another effort to scream but this time it sounded like a half-choked cough. His eyes bore into hers with the intensity of a laser.

"What's that, honey? Hm? Lost your ability to speak altogether, have you?" he mocked, raising one hand and striking her across the mouth. Her lip split open and more blood gushed down her face and the front of her blouse. The sticky fabric clung to her skin and oddly enough the first random thought that cut through the throbbing pain was _I__'__ll never get the stains off my clothes_.

She reached for her gun, that she had debated long and hard to get to keep, but he easily knocked it out of her hands.

"See, I knew you'd come to this place. I honestly thought people would be on the lookout for me, but…" he clicked his tongue. "Guess not; I just showed my ID and walked right on in. And your precious team are in California. Isn't that just _too_ _bad_?"

He punched her in the stomach and she doubled over, spraying blood everywhere as the air was knocked out of her. He waited until she began to straighten up before punching her again, even harder this time. He pushed her up against the mirrors.

"Take a good look at yourself, bitch! Do you see how pathetic and useless you are? Do you see how disgusting you are?!" He shook her. "Do you!?"

She began crying. "Yes, James, yes, I do, I'm sorry, just let me go," she sobbed.

He grabbed her by the shoulders and threw her across the room. Her body left a smear of blood on the floor, and he stepped into it as he came after her. She saw that he was about to kick her - with the shoe that already had her blood on it - and tried to curl up in order to protect herself from the blow, but she wasn't quick enough. The kick struck her straight in the ribs and she gasped at the familiar pain when something snapped inside of her.

"I should have killed you years ago, you stuck-up frigid cunt! You always thought you were all high and mighty! Well guess what, you're nothing! You are _nothing _Alex!"

She barely heard him anymore. Everything hurt so badly she was drifting in and out of consciousness. Thick, coppery blood gushed down her throat from her battered nose and she spat in an attempt to free her airways before it could drown her. He kicked her in the ribs again and whether he fractured another rib or sent the ones already broken out of place, she could feel it when something punctured her lung. She could no longer breathe. It felt like everything inside of her was broken; falling to pieces like a rag doll in the jaws of a rabid dog.

_I__'__m dying_, she thought, but it was merely a statement; a neutral announcement. She wasn't even afraid anymore. She was just tired. Exhausted, really. She wanted nothing more than to go to sleep.

* * *

Garcia opened the door and called out; "Alex, you're making me worried…" she froze as she saw the blood. There was so much blood, all over the floor and the walls, and it had stained the mirror nearest to the door with lots of red droplets and streaks.

Blake's gun was on the floor next to the trashcan and Garcia bent down and picked it up in one swift movement. She hated guns, but after she had been shot Derek had taught her how to handle them with confidence. Not that she felt confident at the moment.

Shallow, wheezing breaths came from the far corner. Alex Blake was squirming on the floor in a growing puddle of her own blood and the man towering over her had to be her husband. The great, selfless doctor. The doctor without borders, indeed.

"James Blake, step away from her and put your hands where I can see them," Garcia said in a loud voice, hoping that she sounded like an authority. He whipped his head around and stared at her. Garcia felt a shiver running down her spine at the sight of him - he looked absolutely deranged.

"I'll be damned," he said, almost sounding amused. "If it isn't the fat little tech analyst. So you're the one who's been hiding my wife. Well, it doesn't matter. I've got her now."

He scoffed and began to aim another kick at his wife - at her head this time - but before he could get that far a shot rang out and his white shirt began to turn red as he slowly collapsed on the floor.

No, Penelope Garcia didn't like weapons, but that didn't mean she hadn't learned to handle them.

* * *

"Alex, stay with me. Okay, just stay with me, oh my God…" Garcia didn't know where to begin; the other woman was bleeding everywhere and there was no telling how badly wounded she was inside.

Another woman opened the door and Garcia screamed at her to call 911. The woman took one look at the scene before her, then pulled out her cell phone and did as she was told.

"Hey, stay with me, please don't let go, okay? Alex, help is on the way, hang in there…"

Alex managed to open her eyes and fixate the younger woman for a moment, but then her eyes rolled to show the whites before closing altogether. Her every breath was a painful struggle and Garcia saw that she was giving up.

"No, no no no, don't you dare!"

Garcia had no idea for how long she sat there before the paramedics turned up, but it felt like an eternity. Other people came and tried to help, but Alex just lay there, her assaulted body clinging to the habit of life that her mind had already given up on.

* * *

**A/N**

Yeah, I'm actually very sorry, I think I traumatised myself by writing this chapter. I used to be a horror writer back in my teens and early twenties but I have grown way soft since the last time I wrote a horror fic and UGH! I'm going to need a big dose of seriously sugary fluff to flush _this _out of my system.

Also, I know a lot of things don't make sense in this story - but a lot of things don't make sense in real life either.

Spoiler alert for those in despair over where this chapter ends; I don't do sad endings. ;)


	12. Chapter 12

Garcia sat in the hospital waiting room for hours while Blake was in surgery, trying not to let her fear get the best of her. She wanted to send out positive energy to the universe, in the hopes of getting the positive energy back to the wounded woman. But she had killed someone today, and Garcia was a person who highly respected life. It helped - a little - when Hotch explained to her that without her, Blake wouldn't still have her life. The only reason it didn't help more than just a little was because Garcia wasn't sure if Blake would still hold on to it.

She had only just finished talking to the team when a doctor walked into the almost-empty waiting room.

"Miss Garcia?"

"Yes! How is she?"

"Well…" the doctor said. "Her condition is critical but stable. It was touch and go for a while; she was bleeding pretty badly internally which alarmed us, but we've got it under control."

"Can I see her?"

"She's heavily sedated, the trauma really took a toll on her. It was very, very close."

Garcia closed her eyes and tears trickled out from under her eyelids.

_If only I had gotten there sooner. If only I hadn't allowed her to push me away._

"Is she…" she cleared her throat. "Is she going to make it?"

"We're optimistic regarding her chances of making a full recovery."

_That's not a yes_, Garcia thought, but forced herself to thank the doctor instead of yelling at him to give her a better prognosis. She sunk back into the chair, sighing, knowing the only thing that could tell the outcome, was time.

* * *

Blake slowly woke up to a world consistent of throbbing pain - which made her absolutely confident that this wasn't the afterlife. She was stitched and bandaged and drugged, but she was very much alive.

She was too high on painkillers to really worry about James, but even in this half-fog she had to admit to herself that she was uncertain of whether or not he could still get to her. Someone had obviously stopped him before he could deal the final blow, but she didn't know what - if anything - he had said about her, about them.

A nurse came into the room.

"Mrs Blake?"

"Agent." Her throat felt like it was coated with dust. It was difficult to speak; hell, it was difficult to just _breathe_. Still she pushed on. "_Agent _Blake."

The nurse gave her an unsure glance and tried to disguise it by looking into the medical records.

"How are you feeling?"

_Like my husband tried to kill me and was damned close to succeed in doing so, what does it look like?_

"Beat up."

"I could give you some more painkillers…"

"No. If a Penelope Garcia is here…" she had to pause and catch her breath before she could continue; "please make someone go and get her."

"Of course." But the young woman lingered, looking increasingly uncomfortable.

_What now? _

"I know I'm way out of bounds here, but…" the girl, she couldn't have been more than a few years over twenty which made her less than half than Blake's age, blushed and averted her eyes, but finally continued. "… when I saw you, I knew I had to leave my boyfriend before it was too late."

"Oh." At first Blake couldn't think of anything else to say. _I'm glad to hear it _was bad, but _I'm sorry to hear that _was worse_. _She finally managed to catch the girl's eye. "Look after yourself."

"I will. I'm sorry."

"I'll live." She hoped it was true. The girl smiled before turning to leave.

"We both will."

Blake felt tears burn in her eyes, but she refused to allow them to run down her cheeks. This was not the path she had expected her life to take.

But at least she still had a life. As for the path… she could figure that out later.

* * *

"Miss Garcia?"

Garcia had nodded off in the waiting room but upon hearing her name called she was immediately awoken.

"Yes! Is she, what's going on?"

Her eyes begged the doctor to give her some good news, and he gave her a reassuring smile.

"The nurse just told me she's awake. She wants to see you. I must warn you though, she's in bad shape, so try not to upset her."

"O-okay."

* * *

She wasn't sure what she had expected, but the sight of Alex Blake - a woman whom Garcia had always found a little bit intimidating because of her elegance, emotional distance and driven personality - in a hospital bed, plugged into beeping machines, was pure agony.

"Hi," Garcia managed to say. Blake tried to smile. It hurt her battered face, but she tried anyway.

"Hi," she whispered hoarsely.

Garcia plopped down on the visitor's chair and put her hand over the older woman's.

"I've been so worried."

"I'm fine."

Garcia couldn't decide whether to laugh or cry at this blatant overstatement, so she did both things at the same time.

"Why do you always have to say that?"

Blake chose not to answer. Maybe this was the last time she would have to lie about how she felt.

"Is he dead?"

"Yes, he is. It's over, Alex. He can't get to you again."

Blake closed her eyes, squeezing Garcia's hand. "Thank you."

_She's thanking me for killing her husband_, Garcia thought and this was enough to make her sob out loud.

Blake made a snorting sound and Garcia immediately stared at her, alarmed that something was wrong, but to her surprise she found that Blake was chuckling.

"I'm thanking you for killing my husband," she said, trying in vain to stop laughing - in spite of all the painkillers in her system it hurt like crazy - but it was a matter of either laughing or crying and she was _beyond _fed up with crying. The medication might have played a big part in this unexpected outburst of giddiness as well.

"Oh my God, it hurts to laugh," she groaned and put a hand over her face, careful not to touch her broken nose.

"Should I call for the nurse?" Garcia asked.

"No," Blake replied and took as deep of a breath as she could. "No, it's okay." She was quiet for a while before adding; "You saved my life, you know."

"I… I just…"

"No. You did. Thank you."

She was beginning to slur when she spoke and Garcia knew she was about to go back to sleep; hopefully a healing one without nightmares.

"You're welcome. Just rest now. I'll stay here."

"I hope that son of a bitch burns in hell. I hope there _is _a hell."

She didn't have to specify who she meant. Before Garcia could reply, Blake was asleep, so she merely patted the older woman's hand and sent a very un-Garcia thought into the universe.

_I hope so, too._

* * *

**A/N**

Last chapter actually left me out of breath and in (soul-) pain, so I had to back off a little before I could write this. Story's almost over either way, just have to pick up the aftermath a little.

Also, I want to mention that domestic violence doesn't just happen to women in heterosexual relationships although that's what I've focused on in this story; it happens to people in relationships with other people, regardless of gender and sexual orientation. And it's _never _okay.


	13. Chapter 13

Blake winced as she very carefully sat down in the passenger's seat of JJ's car. The blonde woman shook her head.

"Are you absolutely sure you're well enough to leave the hospital?"

"That's what the doctors said."

"Did they, really? Or did you nag on them until they felt like they had no choice but to let you have your way?"

"There may have occurred some pressure from my side," she admitted, and JJ laughed.

"Fine, but please don't overdo anything. I'll be watching you like a hawk."

"I know you will," Blake sighed, but her annoyance was mainly acted. She was grateful that JJ had volunteered to stay at her place a couple of days; she wasn't sure how well she would cope with seeing James's belongings, not to mention the surroundings where she had used to curl up in fear and pain. The kitchen island where he had once raped her from behind while she was making dinner. The couch in the living room which held the faded but not completely invisible stains of blood from that time when he had closed her hand around a glass she had accidentally broken. The bookshelves that had been dotted with her blood after he hit her in the face one of the first times, causing a nosebleed (but not a _broken _nose; now she had that experience to add to the long list of familiar pains). She was afraid that her own home would feel like a haunted house with old ghosts in every corner, and yes, she was grateful that JJ would stay with her. Especially during the nights. Even in the hospital she had woken up several times each night from nightmares. She didn't expect it to be any easier now, at least not yet.

* * *

Blake was mentally going through every single beating she had ever taken; every detail was burned into her memory. As they parked outside her home, JJ gave her a side-glance and said;

"Don't go there. You're revisiting the past. Stay here with me."

She made an almost visible effort to return to the present, and nodded.

"Could you help me get out of the car, please, I don't think I can do it on my own."

JJ was tempted to ask Alex if she had finally changed her mind about accepting help when she needed it, but decided that asking it flat out might scare her into denial. The thing about this woman was that you always had to tiptoe around her emotions. She was tough as hell when she had to be, but emotionally, she was extremely fragile. So JJ simply got out, walked around the car and helped her colleague and friend step out. She was in pain, very clearly, but JJ knew the painkillers had been wearing off already when they left the hospital.

"You okay?" she asked as she steadied her on the way to the door. Blake shook her head.

"No, but I will be, in time."

_Yes, I actually think you will. I didn't think so when I saw you with your own gun to your head, but you're going to be fine._

She smiled and stroke Blake's shoulder. To her surprise, instead of recoiling at the touch, the other woman leaned into it. JJ's smile widened. Alex was damaged, but not beyond repair.

* * *

Later, as JJ had made them some coffee and insisted that the other woman took her painkillers instead of suffering through the pain to show how resilient she was - that part of Alex would probably always remain, JJ thought - they both sat down in the living room. JJ had noticed the faded stain and seen the way Alex looked at it; as if it was going to come alive and attack her, so she had simply sat down on it to keep it hidden. Once she did that, the older woman seemed to relax.

"I spoke to my lawyer… well, _our _lawyer, but technically he's mine now. Given that there were no official records of us… _separating_, and most certainly no divorce, I will inherit everything. I just wanted my own money back, what was on the accounts he took down, you know?"

"Mhm," JJ said. She feared where this was going. Perhaps James had been a gambler or wasted his money on hookers; perhaps Alex was broke now. But the truth turned out to be something else entirely.

"Turns out, he's been investing money everywhere. Or, should I say, everywhere he could profit from it." She chewed her lip a little before continuing; "I inherit 4.2 million dollars."

"Oh my God Alex!"

"Yeah," she said and sighed softly. "I don't know how that makes me feel. Part of me feel like…" she paused and searched for words. "Like a whore, to be completely blunt. I feel like he paid me off to get away with treating me like that all these years."

"Don't…"

"But," she went on without acknowledging JJ, "on the other hand I'm pleased. That son of a bitch couldn't take anything with him and now it's up to me to spend _his _money any way _I _see fit."

"Will you stop working?" JJ couldn't help being a little worried about this. Blake scoffed.

"And do what? Spend my days shopping? No way. Besides, I haven't even decided what to do with the money yet; I'm not sure I want to keep it. I'll have to take some time and think about it." She smiled. "And figure out where to go with my life from here."

"Well, you never have to be alone unless you choose to. I hope the team have convinced you of that," JJ said, returning the smile.

"Yes. And I want to thank you all, for everything. Actually, I'm inviting the whole team over here this weekend. I know I've never been much of a socialiser, but I had my reasons. Now, I have no secrets to keep, and that's a relief."

JJ leaned forward and gave her a gentle hug. Alex returned it without going rigid even for a moment, which told JJ everything she needed to know. The healing process had started, and not just the physical.

* * *

**A/N**

There. The story is finally done. And yeah, the money came as a complete surprise for me too, hahaha! XD

Thank you everyone for your support, it wasn't an easy story to write and I suppose it wasn't very easy to read either, given its horrible nature. But… I've said it before, I don't do sad endings. There has to be hope.


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